


An Albuquerque Kidnapping

by pipisafoat



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-13
Updated: 2012-03-13
Packaged: 2017-11-01 21:57:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/361706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>See end note for content notes/warnings.</p>
<p>Literally no research was done for this fic. I expect that if you work in any field mentioned, you'll find errors. Otherwise, you probably won't notice. I have been writing this thing for apparently three years, so thanks need to go out to likelike_love, papillongirl, 31stcentury, greenstuff, and firesign10 for various alpha and beta and cheerleading and title help.</p>
    </blockquote>





	An Albuquerque Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

> See end note for content notes/warnings.
> 
> Literally no research was done for this fic. I expect that if you work in any field mentioned, you'll find errors. Otherwise, you probably won't notice. I have been writing this thing for apparently three years, so thanks need to go out to likelike_love, papillongirl, 31stcentury, greenstuff, and firesign10 for various alpha and beta and cheerleading and title help.

Susie McClellan's birthday cake was sitting on the counter, waiting for the arrival of twenty other little girls, but that didn't stop the six-year-old. She pulled a chair over to the counter, climbed up onto it, and reached for the mixing bowl with all the extra icing in it. One finger, up to one knuckle, and she pulled it back out to enjoy her capture.

"Ah, Julie, you know the price." Susie recognized her mommy's name, but she didn't know the man talking to her. Sucking on her icing-covered finger, she snuck over to the door to spy on them.

"Please, Max, not now, okay? My husband and daughter are home."

The large black man laughed. "Then invite them to join the party! Suzanne and Bill, right?"

"Mommy?"

Julie spun around and tried to block her daughter's view of Max with her body. "Hi, sweetheart. Mommy has some business to take care of, okay? Go play in the backyard until Natalie gets here."

"Now, that's not necessary. The child can stay. Susie, go and fetch your father, will you?"

"But--" The sight of the gun stopped her. Even though she'd never seen one in real life, Daddy had explained to her that they weren't toys, that they could hurt people. "Yes, Sir."

As the two of them came down the stairs to see what was going on, they found Max walking out of the front door, Julie lying in a puddle of her own blood. "This is what happens when you back out of a deal with me," he explained matter-of-factly. "Don't make the same mistake as your wife, Bill. I expect my shipment tomorrow morning."

The next morning, they were sitting in a safe house on the far side of town, waiting for an escort to their new life.

* * *

"It's her birthday," Marshall explained around the scissors in his mouth. "Little girls deserve presents on their birthdays."

"It was her birthday the day her mother was shot. Somehow, I don't think she'd care too much for a reminder of that just yet." Mary stopped to steal a sip of his coffee on her way to her desk. "Too sweet. What'd you get her?"

He pointed at his computer. "And before you say anything, it was on sale in the store."

"Breyer Classic Horses... horse and rider gift set? Do you even know if she likes horses?"

"Yeah, crime scene photographs from her mother. The cake had horses on it." He squinted at the package, added another piece of tape to it, and nodded decisively. "Want me to put your name on it, too?"

"Only if she likes it." Mary slid the present to the side and looked at the file laying open underneath. "Damn. Professional job?"

"The hit? Yes. The cake? No, but mom apparently made cakes for everyone's birthdays. Her gift to the birthday kid."

"Great. Cakes for the kids and illegal weapons for the dads. What'd she do for the moms in the neighborhood?"

Marshall rolled his eyes at her lewd eyebrows. "Don't you have your own copy of the file?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't come with coffee." She grabbed the cup again before he could get to it. "Marshall, someone's got to teach you that real men drink it black. Put some hair on that scrawny chest of yours."

He opened his mouth to reply, but Mary stuffed the coffee back in his hands. "Come on, they're here."

Mary always took the lead with her witnesses, and Marshall let her do the talking for most of his, too. Despite her harsh and somewhat abrasive manner, many people opened up more to her than to him, just because she was a woman, and Bill McClellan was no exception. It probably didn't hurt things that Mary was a blonde, like his wife, Marshall mused. Or that Susie seemed to take an instant liking to her - probably at least partially due to the fact that Mary had taken the present out of his hands just before opening the door. At any rate, with the present opened and his partner running through the rules, Marshall was free to observe the family from a corner of the room.

"So, any questions?"

"Actually, yes," Bill answered, and Marshall smiled to himself. The man may be grieving for his wife and his old life, but he still had a head on his shoulders. "If we're his witnesses, why are you the one doing all the talking?"

Marshall moved to the table and sat down. "That's just how she is," he replied. "And since we're partners, we kind of share witnesses. Two sets of eyes are better than one, after all, and you can also call her if you need anything."

"Fair enough. Why do we have to change our name?"

Mary sighed. "Because that's how this works. Are you really that attached to it?"

Bill shrugged. "I guess not. Am I going to have to get rid of the clan tartans?"

She snorted. "The what?"

"The plaid cloths and such, possibly including a kilt, that identify a Scottish clan or, at least, the region in which the clan is found," Marshall explained.

"Kilt?"

"It's kind of like a skirt for men."

Bill coughed. "No, it isn't."

"I know what a kilt is," Mary interjected, catching the horse toy as it fell and handing it back to the blissfully uninvolved Susie. "I'm just a bit surprised that Bill would have one."

He shrugged. "It's not like I wear it every day. It's an important part of my heritage, or so my grandmother told me. So, do I keep it or hand it over?"

Mary and Marshall exchanged a glance. "I think we'll have to see it first," Mary answered. "See how common it is."

"Extremely," he answered. "Maybe not in the streets of Albuquerque, but in a box in the top of a closet, yeah. Look, I'm not going to go advertising it; I just want to keep something of my past, and I figured that was better than just about anything else."

"What she means," Marshall stage-whispered to Bill, "is that she wants to see it so she can visualize you in it."

"More like so I can picture _you_ in it, smarta--lec." She flashed an apologetic half-smile in the general direction of Susie. "Anything else you brought with you?"

"Wedding pictures?"

Marshall made a face. "Not going to be a good idea, Bill, seeing as how these people definitely knew your wife."

He nodded slowly. "Alright, didn't think so. They're easy to pull out once I get a hand on our bags."

"Which we can do now, unless you have any other questions."

"Just one. Why is Susie's birthday different? The other Marshals told me they wouldn't change anything like that."

Mary shot Marshall a meaningful glance. "It's only ten days, so it's not like you can't just pretend you were in a hurry and forgot to write the 1."

"Won't be a problem, just want to know why." Bill turned his gaze to Marshall. "Well?"

He shrugged. "Give her new memories for her sixth birthday. No child should have to think of a tragedy on their birthday every year. At any rate, it's not far enough off to make any real legal or medical difference in anything."

"Now, if that's all, just sign here..." Mary handed Bill a pen. "Your new name, if you please."

He nodded, signed his name, and capped the pen carefully. "Bill McLeod. A pleasure to meet you both."

Marshall grinned and shook his hand. "You'll be alright, Bill."

"That's the plan."

Regardless of who handled the initial contact, routine checkups on witnesses were too numerous to do together unless they had a good reason. In fact, unless she suspected something, Mary never brought up Marshall's witnesses, though he occasionally asked after some of hers. She certainly never volunteered to come with him for a routine check unless her car was in the shop and she needed to go somewhere, too. All these were thoughts that flitted through Marshall's head when his partner asked when he was going to drop by the McLeods next.

"Thursday is the next scheduled visit. Why?"

She shrugged. "Thought maybe I'd come with."

"Something feel hinky to you?" His eyes narrowed at her as he mentally ran through everything. "I'm missing it."

"Nothing really," she answered. "Just figured the kid might want a woman around some, seeing as how she just lost her mother."

Marshall cocked his head to one side. "Your maternal instincts are kicking in?"

"Shut up." She threw a pen at him. "I just doubt she sees you as any sort of replacement, no matter how much of a mother hen you can be. Damn it, give me that pen back; it was my last one."

"Actually, this looks like it used to be my pen." He tossed it onto her desk anyway. "Sure, come with me Thursday. Maybe you can pick out your own food for once instead of whinging because I brought you the wrong thing."

"I don't whinge." She started to throw the pen at him again before changing her mind. "I simply point out the error of your ways."

He shrugged. "You whinge." She raised an eyebrow, and he raised both his hands in a placating gesture. Not something he did very often, he mused, but when Bill McLeod bristled at Mary's unexpected presence on Thursday, he found himself repeating the gesture.

"I'm just here because my car's in the shop," Mary told him, walking past his defensive stance and settling on the dark blue couch. "Got to get lunch somehow."

A questioning look, and she shrugged. _'What did you want me to tell him?'_ he practically heard, and he inclined his head just enough to give in. "I do hope it's not a problem, Bill," he said placatingly. "Trying to convince her to wait in the car--"

"Would be a fool's undertaking," the man said with a smile that seemed somewhat forced. "No, it's no problem. You can understand my concern, though, when your partner shows up with you without warning. I expected to be told we needed to move again or something. Susie's only just gotten settled here."

Mary looked up from the National Geographic she'd found on the coffee table. "Where is she, by the way?"

"At school," Bill answered, confused. "Is this a problem?"

"Of course not," Marshall answered. "Mary's bad at days of the week."

"Am not."

He rolled his eyes. "Anything you need, Bill? How's the job search going?"

"Not so hot. I'm good at what I do, but you won't let me do it. What's left, flipping burgers? Because that's about all I've found."

Marshall frowned. "There's a lot of work to be found for a social worker, even if you aren't working with kids. Unless I'm mistaken, there are five or six senior centers in the city alone. How about I look at them for you and let you know what I find out?"

Bill closed his eyes for a moment before replying. "I don't do old people. I do kids, child protection. I hope the government is prepared to pay for whatever training I'll need to change jobs."

"You shouldn't need anything," Mary interrupted, still flipping through magazine. "Not to qualify for the job, at least." She glanced up and shrugged. "There was a time when my sister thought she'd be a good social worker. Any education he'll need for the different age group should be paid for by the employer, and he'd get on the job training."

"That's settled then. I'll poke around and see what comes up." Marshall made a note on a pocket-sized notebook and shook Bill's hand as they headed out the door.

"He's not even looking for a job," Mary complained as they got back in the car. "Lying with every word he said. He probably sits at home and drinks away all the money the government's pushed his way."

"They have food, clothing, and her bookcase was impressively full."

She shrugged. "He smelled like alcohol, and it's only 11 am. He even knew we were coming and still drank."

"Do you blame him?" Marshall looked at her sideways.

"Yes."

She wasn't looking at him when she said it, he noticed. "He just lost his wife."

"He has a daughter to take care of. Losing a spouse is no excuse for neglecting the rest of the family." Her grip tightened on the steering wheel, just enough that he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been looking for it. He sighed and turned to look out the window.

"I'll say something if it lasts much longer."

She started coming with him, more often than not, and he let her, and Bill got used to her coming in unannounced, uninvited. "It's just how she is," Marshall explained one day, and Bill had smiled and agreed. Mary just smirked at them and put her feet up on the coffee table, and when three weeks had gone by, she told Marshall to change his visits to when Susie would be home.

"I'm surprised you're not dropping in to chat with her while she's at school," he told her, completely aware of the fact that she'd been talking to the girl's teacher and counselor. She shrugged in response and didn't deny anything.

"I'm far more interested in how she interacts with Daddy." There was suspicion in her eyes, and her hand was on her phone as though waiting for it to ring.

"He isn't drinking anymore."

She nodded. "He also doesn't have a job yet. Didn't you have something practically set up for him?"

Marshall opened his mouth to tell her that yes, he did, but it must have fallen through, when the phone rang.

"Katherine Black, of Bear Canyon Senior Center?" she asked, hitting the button to put it on speaker.

"Yes, and this is Marshal Shannon?"

"And Marshal Mann," she agreed. "We just needed to check up on one of your employees, make sure he's been attending work regularly."

Marshall tried to catch her eye, but she was avoiding him again. "None of my employees are under any suspicion, are they?" Katherine asked.

"Absolutely not," Marshall interjected. "There's nothing to worry about."

"We were just hoping you could tell us if you've hired anyone recently." Mary's ability to be polite was one that surprised most people, but even she recognized that sometimes, it was the better approach.

"Yes, ma'am, there was a man by the name of James Edwards who started this Monday. He's just a janitor, though, so he may not be what you're looking for. Other than that, nothing recent."

"How about going back a month or two?" Marshall asked. _No telling what someone else's definition of 'recent' is._

"Nobody new in the past four months other than Edwards. We do still have that opening about which you were inquiring, Marshal Mann. We only received one application, but he hasn't completed the necessary schooling. Is there anything else I can do to help you?"

"No, thank you, that's it."

"You have a good day now, Marshals."

Mary hung up the phone. "I'm assuming you were about to tell me someone else must have gotten that job."

"Smugness is not becoming," Marshall said absently, pulling the McLeod file from the rack on his desk. "Damn. March 4th, he said he'd applied for the job at Bear Canyon. 'Position already filled. Witness to look elsewhere.'"

"Where, exactly, is elsewhere?" she asked. "Because I'm thinking Bill might not be quite truthful."

"You do realize that there are six senior centers in Albuquerque? He could have looked at any one of them…" Mary shook her head, and he sighed. "Alright, already, I'm pulling his phone records. You have time to make yourself useful?"

When she said yes, it surprised him, but when neither of them could find any damning information, he completely expected her refusal to accept that this was the end of it. "Just because we can't find it doesn't mean it's not there."

He wouldn't let her bug the house, she wouldn't let him not do _something_ , and somehow they find found themselves compromising to on a different day for the routine visits. It was time to cut back from once a week to twice a month, but Marshall found himself knocking on the dirty green door that Saturday, anyway.

"Is there some reason these visits were rescheduled?" Bill almost demanded as Mary settled into her now-customary place on the couch and picked up the Reader's Digest on the end table.

Marshall shrugged. "We had an opening come up in our regular Saturday schedule - one of the other witnesses had his job hours change - so I thought this might be more convenient to fit into your work."

"We also prefer to see the families with children on the weekend," Mary added, flipping through the magazine. "Susie around?"

"She's working on homework," Bill said slowly.

She raised her eyebrows at him. "On a Saturday morning? When I was in first grade, they didn't give us homework on the weekends."

Bill shrugged. "Me neither, but times are changing, I suppose. They talk about college at the PTO meetings already."

Marshall shook his head. "It's a bit ridiculous, I'd say. Anyway, Susie's a smart girl, so I bet she's doing just fine."

"Straight As," Bill said proudly. "She's a hard worker. Wants to be a vet when she grows up, I think."

"That right, Susie?" Mary asked, glancing behind the men. "A vet?"

The little girl nodded from where she was peeking out behind the door frame. "I found a hurt kitty last week," she said shyly. "An' Doctor Tony let me help him fix her."

"Have you finished your homework yet?" Bill asked.

"No, sir. I have a question."

Mary stood up. "I'll help. What are you working on?"

"Math," Susie said. "It's real hard."

"Math. As long as it's not algebra, I should be able to handle it." Marshall threw her a disbelieving look and laughed as she ignored him. "Let's go see this math, Susie."

He wasn't surprised when Mary took the keys out of his hand and got in the driver seat, but when she pulled over two blocks down the road, he looked at her questioningly.

"You need to call CPS," she said quietly.

"As in Child Protection? You know we can't. Not on this one."

"You need to."

He shifted in his seat, faced her. "Bill McClellan worked for Child Protective Services."

"Not in Albuquerque, he didn't!" Mary took a breath and shook her head as if to clear it. "Damn it, Marshall, I'm serious."

"So am I. If we call them, they'll need to know our connection to the family."

"So we get someone else to call."

"If they send someone who knew Bill McClellan..."

Mary slammed her hand against the steering wheel. "What are the goddamn chances of that, Marshall?"

"Higher than you seem to think," he said quietly, measured. "Considering he was _the_ guy to go to if you had questions anywhere in the western half of the country."

"So we send him east and then get him investigated."

Marshall closed his eyes. "You're not thinking this through very clearly."

"And you're not thinking at all," she countered angrily. "Susie sleeps with her father every night. She doesn't even have her own room - the second bedroom is daddy's junk room."

"And they just lost a wife and mother. Completely normal for a six-year-old to want to sleep with her father."

"Will you open your goddamn eyes!" He did, looked at her. "I meant that figuratively. Did you even look at the kid?"

"Look at? Yes. Examine? No. I didn't even talk to her. But," he held up a hand to stop her interruption, "no matter what, we can't make any decisions until someone sees her. A social worker who isn't her father, or at the very least the school counselor."

"School counselor's an imbecile," Mary said, starting the car. "I'll see what I can arrange."

There weren't many stupider things in life one could do than try to take a job away from Mary Shannon when she wanted to do it. All Marshall could do was watch his partner take over his case and take a few of her own witnesses off her load to give her more time on the McLeods. It was six days before her plans finally started to come together.

"Got your proof," she said, and a moment later, Marshall's email popped up.

_Fwd: Suzanne McLeod Evaluation Report_

_Inspector Shannon,_

_I have attached my full report from the evaluation of Suzanne "Susie" Amanda McLeod. However, to aid in your investigation, I have also summarized the information most pertinent to your requests:_

_Susie reports that she sleeps with her father every night. According to her, part of the reason is because they're both afraid that "Scary Max" will come back, but she also revealed that her father has molested her and is telling her that she is the "woman of the house" now, though she does not know what all that title entails (and thus, neither do I)._

_And Mary, this is the last favor you ever call in and the last time you contact me. If that child isn't out of there by the end of the week, I will call the **proper** authorities._

_Diane_

"Old friend of yours?" he asked when he finished reading.

"She owed me several favors. We can get Susie to a friend's house."

"Yeah, what friends are these, exactly?" He glanced up, surprised to see the file in her hand shaking slightly. "She's the new kid, and if she's being molested, chances are--"

"Shut up." Her voice was calm, controlled, hand still shaking just barely enough to be noticeable.

He pulled his gaze back up to her face. "At any rate, her father would have to sign off on her going to a friend's house, and somehow I think staying for _one_ night is slightly out of the question."

She closed her eyes, sighed, and nodded. "Alright. Family, but that's out of the question. Can't call CPS. What about another WITSEC family?"

Marshall snorted. "Yeah. That's happened once, and you remember all the hoops we jumped through then. Our only hope is to kidnap the girl and make a run for it, keep her away from Bill until he testifies, and then sic CPS on him."

"That might work," she said slowly.

"Oh, Jesus, I was kidding!" He paused, cocked his head at her. "Although, if we get Bobby D in on it..."

"Got to find someone to cover our witnesses..."

"No big cases pending besides Bill, but if Stan handles him and someone else comes in..."

"Take her from school?"

"Not during, but maybe after..."

"You could distract him, make him late to get her, meet up with us later..."

"This might work." Marshall stood up suddenly and gestured for Mary to stay. "Let me do the talking. You start working out logistics. I have a place we can go, but we need a car."

"Mine won't make it out of town; he'll recognize yours with just a glance if we're unlucky enough to run across him. Motor pool?"

"GPS," he called over his shoulder. "Rent one under a fake name. Hey, Stan, quick question..."

After a million 'no's, several 'no way's, and one very emphatic 'hell no, Marshall! Do you want me to take your badge?', Mary came in, pushed him out, and closed the door. When she finally emerged twenty-six minutes and forty-seven seconds later, not that he was counting, she had a strange expression on her face, and Stan was biting the inside of his mouth.

"Do it," he said quietly. "I'm putting Mary on administrative leave for her attitude, and you're taking personal days to visit your family. You're talking to Dershowitz, though, and keep me updated - carefully."

It would only be six days until Bill left town for the trial, if they snatched her tomorrow. "Owe you."

"Not even close. Get out of here."

Thirty-four minutes to get their files ready for whoever covered, and they were gone. Mary went to her house, complained about being suspended, and said she was going to go on a vacation if she couldn't work. Marshall called his parents, told them he wasn't coming to visit them, and then called a cab to meet his partner at the rental place. By the end of the day, Marshall Miller had rented a car and filled it with enough groceries to last him, his new girlfriend Meredith Smith, and her kid for three weeks, just in case things went south, and they each took a cab home from the grocery store just to be sure the car couldn't be connected to either of their real selves.

As it turned out, there was no need for Marshall to invent a reason to delay Bill McLeod the next afternoon. Bobby D arranged for a domestic disturbance call-in to be investigated at the wrong location, and by the time the paper trail had been unraveled and Bill was free to pick up his daughter, the newly-created Miller-Smith family was well on their way down the road.

"It's not much," Marshall warned, unlocking the cabin door, "but it'll work for what we need."

Mary pushed past him, holding Susie's hand. "Not much? Jesus, Marshall, for a log cabin in the middle of nowhere, this sure looks like a computer geek lives here year-round." She spun slowly, taking in the state-of-the-art entertainment center and what seemed to be a hand-built computer, before crossing to look out a window. "Is all this yours? Because I'm definitely retiring up here."

"Like you'll ever be able to retire," he muttered. "You'll still be waving your gun in people's faces when you're eighty."

"You're never too old to terrorize!" she replied. "Here, kid, let's get your stuff in your room."

Over dinner, Marshall told her the story behind the cabin that would keep them hidden. With five generations of extremely paranoid, extremely good Marshals, there had always been a plot of land and a small cabin in the Miller name in the area, back from the time when they didn't check identities quite so well before selling. There weren't any neighbors to speak of, so nobody minded the family sometimes coming and going at odd hours with various 'friends' visiting with them.

Marshall had been the one to build the computer one summer while he was still in college, and it was upgraded at least once a year to keep it almost as fast as his laptop at home, but it was his father who had installed the high-end entertainment system one year before realizing that they had left all of their movies at home.

"Anyway, it's not mine yet. Still in my dad's name, which is why we bought gas as my parents." He pulled out the credit card he'd used earlier, and she saw that it clearly said 'Seth Miller'. "In case of emergencies. He has one of my alias's cards, too, in case he needs a different bolt-hole." He laughed as he slid his wallet back into his pocket. "I think I had a driver's license as Marshall Miller before Marshall Mann. And you thought I was the law-abiding citizen my whole life."

Mary raised one eyebrow at him and stole a cookie off his plate. "The benefits of being raised to do this job. I thought your dad was retired?"

He shrugged. "Technically, he is. He's still the best in the business, though, so they call him in a lot."

"Now I know who you learned all your moves from." She batted his hand away from her stack of cookies and laughed as Susie snuck one of his while he was distracted. "Still, if he's in two places at once..."

He grinned and almost winked at her. "He won't be. We keep cash on hand in case of something like this. Better than that, by now, there should be record of him and Mom flying out to Albuquerque so the car rental makes more sense."

"Stan said you're visiting your parents officially."

"I added a 'with' to the sentence before we left. The three of us are going on a roadtrip. Jennifer, Seth, and their kid. Lucky you're a blond."

Mary laughed. "You guys do this often?"

He nodded, once, short. "I could hide someone better than most of Dad's coworkers before I was in high school." He blinked slowly and turned to Susie. "Now, did I see someone take my cookie?"

She giggled. "It was Mary!"

"Was not!"

"Was so!"

"Was not!" She reached out and grabbed the girl's last cookie. "Now it was."

Marshall shook his head. "And she says she's not good with kids."

Two hours later, once Susie was tucked into bed and both Mary and Marshall had walked the perimeter, the deadbolt was turned and Marshall started flipping lights. "You can have the bedroom," he said with his head in a closet. "If I remember right, the couch isn't that bad, anyway."

"You get the bed," she argued. "You drove us here, and if the couch isn't comfortable, you know I'll come take at least half the bed. You'd just toss and turn and curse in twelve languages all night instead of getting comfortable."

"I don't speak twelve languages," he disagreed, tossing an extra pillow on the couch.

She waved a hand. "Whatever. You can probably still curse in them, though."

"I don't--"

"Oh, shut up and go to bed." She grabbed the remote and turned the TV on low. "Please tell me you have something I can watch other than static."

He left her curled up at one end of the couch, remote in one hand and Kool-Aid in the other, and when he wandered out five hours later, she was sitting in exactly the same place as before, but the TV was off, and the remote was replaced by her Glock. He sighed and sat down beside her.

"The house is safe."

She shrugged.

"Safe. Go to sleep, or you'll be a bear in the morning, and I doubt Susie would much appreciate that."

She shrugged again. "First night in a new place," she said. "I don't know these noises."

He pried the glass from her hand and took a sip of the drink. "You don't do this in hotels."

"All hotels, motels, and holes in the ground make the same noises. Learn one and you're ready for any of them." She took her drink back. "Go back to bed."

"You don't know these noises," he replied, shifting to get more comfortable. "I do."

"And you telling me about them isn't going to make me go to sleep. I have to hear them all myself."

He shrugged. "Then I'll stay up with you in case something does happen."

"You don't function well on..." she checked her watch. "Five hours of sleep. Go back to bed."

"Not without you." He blinked, shook his head. "You know what I mean."

She half-laughed and tugged on his shoulder. "Then at least lay down."

"I'll be out like a light the second I get horizontal." A long moment later, he realized that this was exactly the point. "Come on, Mary. I'm serious. You need sleep."

"You know I'm okay missing a night. You, however, will make yourself sick if you don't get at least two more hours. Go."

He didn't answer, but he also didn't move.

"If I promise to take a nap in the morning, will you go back to bed?"

He shrugged. "Not yet. You need to talk."

"Talking to you keeps you awake. Kind of counterproductive."

"Not just talking. You need to _talk_ , and you're not going to do it while she's awake."

"So accosting me in the middle of the night is obviously the option." Mary sighed and set her glass on the end table. "What is it you think I need to talk about?"

He shrugged. "If I knew that, we'd already be talking about it. How'd you get Stan to let us do this?" Her fingers tightened on the grip of her gun, and he reached over and slid it out of her grasp. "That's apparently what you need to talk about."

"It's what you think you need to hear about," she countered. "There's nothing I need to talk about. But, to humor you..." She turned and pulled her legs up onto the couch, leaned back against the arm. He tapped her knees, watched her stretch her legs out on top of his without really noticing. "I just described exactly what her life would be like if she didn't get out of that situation."

He nodded and started rubbing her feet absently. "Which is..."

"Not pretty," she said sharply. "Not something I care to see again."

"Again?" Marshall struggled to keep his face and voice neutral. "Something you've seen before?"

"Something I see every goddamn day." She kicked gently. "Ease up, there." His grip loosened immediately. "Susie... she'll be alright. We got her before it got too bad. Too long."

"And the one you see every day..."

She looked into his face. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking maybe there's somebody I need to hunt down and take care of. It can't be that hard to find him."

She shrugged. "Don't bother. He's been dead for years. Play nice, Marshall. You're getting pretty violent for someone you don't even know."

"Don't have to know someone to want them dead," he muttered darkly. "He's dead already? I thought you didn't know..." Mary cocked her head to one side slightly and looked at him.

"Wait a second. You think I'm talking about..." She narrowed her eyes. "Jesus, Marshall, use your stupid pea-brain! Do I look like someone who was molested?"

He flinched and muttered something under his breath, not meeting her eyes.

"Just because I'm screwed up doesn't mean ... He wasn't even around when I was a kid!" Mary heaved a breath and glared at her partner. "Fuck you, okay? I know you don't have the highest opinion of my father, but something this unfounded… you can't just … Christ, Marshall, that's my _dad_ you're talking about!"

His gaze jerked up to her face before skittering off to the left. "No, that's not … I mean … He … I just … What do you see every day, then?"

She studied her hands, picked at a fingernail absently. "Does it matter?" she asked quietly. "You got your answer. Now leave it alone."

"Mary?" Susie hesitated in the doorway, most of her body out of sight as though prepared to bolt. "What time is it?"

"It's early. Go back to bed." She stood up, glanced briefly at Marshall, and turned back to the girl. "Come on, I'll tuck you back in."

Susie took the hand she offered but stepped into the living room instead of going back to her bedroom. "Can I sleep with you?" she asked.

Mary hesitated. "What if I stay with you until you fall back asleep?"

"I want Marshall." Susie brought her fist to her mouth, hesitated, and sucked the edge of her nightgown's sleeve instead of her thumb.

"Sweetie, you can't sleep with me," he answered, standing up slowly. "What if we both sit with you for a while?"

Tears welled up in her eyes. "I miss my daddy."

"I know, I know." Marshall picked her up with a soft grunt when she reached for him. "It's okay. It's just a little campout with us until your daddy takes care of some things, okay?"

"I want Daddy!" One sniff, the beginnings of a sob, and Mary interrupted.

"Okay, Suz, what if we all sleep together? All three of us in the bed? Is that okay?"

Her head lifted from Marshall's shoulder, and she knuckled her eyes. "I want Marshall."

Mary nodded. "Sure."

"Are you going to be able to sleep yet?" Marshall asked as he tossed an extra pillow on the bed. His partner shrugged.

"Either way, I'll lie still enough not to bother you."

He reached out and took her hand as she walked past him towards the other side of the bed. "You want me to let this go." He studied her face as she nodded. "I don't know if I can."

"Yeah."

He heaved a sigh, and as Susie trotted through the door with her own pillow, he pulled his partner into his arms. "I'll try. For you. But no matter what, you know I'm here."

"You're such a girl," Mary replied, but she hugged him back. "Sleep now."

* * *

"How's the vacation?"

Marshall kept his sigh of relief silent as he leaned back in the rocking chair and propped his feet up on the porch railing. Just a regular check-in. "Ah, you know. I'm relaxing, Dad's birdwatching, and Mom's bitching about both of us."

Stan laughed. "Yeah, I'm not surprised about that one. Did she ever learn how to actually go on a vacation?"

"I don't really think vacation is her style." Marshall rolled at his eyes as Mary kicked his leg and stuck out her tongue. "How're things in the city?"

"Same as usual, for the most part. Tanya dropped by with cookies - I ate them all though - and promised to bring muffins when you're back in town. Listen, you know Susie McLeod?"

Marshall tensed and motioned vaguely at Mary. She glanced up as he said to Stan, "She seemed fine when I dropped her off yesterday. What's up?"

Mary jumped up and strode quickly into the yard. "Hey, Suze, how about we try out this tire swing, huh? Marshall used to love it when he was kid."

"...wasn't there when Bill got home," Stan was saying. "Of course, the police can't get involved until she's been gone for 24 hours, but Jacob and I are looking into it. I've already talked to your friend Detective Dershowitz, and he's agreed to take over as soon as the 24 hours is up, if we don't have her back by then."

"Good," Marshall said, then shook himself. If this were any other case.... "I can be back in town in two hours. Just give me a few minutes to repack my bag."

In the short pause that followed, Marshall could almost hear Stan's brain screeching onto the same track as him. "No, no, that's not why I called. I, ah, I just wanted to check in with you, see if you had any thoughts on this that I didn't. We don't need to ruin your vacation yet, just, you know, a couple minutes, see if you have any brilliant ideas for us to look into."

"Well, I assume you're checking the obvious?"

Stan sighed loudly. "Call me if you get any actual ideas. The lady next door, what was her name? Mrs. Williams? She said she kept an eye on the house and didn't see her leaving or anyone else coming to the house."

Marshall blinked at the unexpected alibi. "Alright. Well, I'll think on it, let you know what I come up with."

"Enjoy your vacation."

Mary headed back to the porch as her partner dropped the phone beside him. "Well?" she asked, leaning on the rail beside his feet.

"We're good for now. Unexpected support from Cherish Williams confirms our story."

She blinked, wrinkled her brow, and stared down at him for a minute before her face cleared. "Wait. _The_ Cherish Williams? The one who used to date, oh what's her name, that witness who died last year?"

"Amanda Jenkins, and they were married."

"Whatever. So she's covering for us? How's that work?"

Marshall rolled his eyes. "You're really unobservant for a Marshal, know that? She lives across the street from Bill and Susie. Stan might have talked to her, or maybe she drew some of her own conclusions."

"How am I supposed to have recognized her all the way across the street when I never bothered to learn who she was anyway?"

He refrained from rolling eyes again in favor of watching Susie slide off the tire swing to hug the tree from which it hung. "The point is, we're not implicated at all so far."

"That won't last forever. Stan'll have to call you back down eventually. What am I going to do up here in your cabin, alone with a kid?"

"Same thing you've been doing with me here. Well, with a little more cooking; we wouldn't want the two of you to starve without me."

"Ha ha. I could cook, but why bother when you'll do it for me?"

"You're welcome."

She sighed and shoved his arm off the armrest of his rocking chair to sit beside him. "What happens when Bill works out that we're up here with her? Or gets Bobby D off the case and the new cop finds us?"

"It won't happen. Dad's name, remember?"

Mary shrugged. "I don't see him anywhere around here."

* * *

"And who's this, Marshall?"

Mary looked up from the book she was reading to Susie as Marshall came into the house with an older man.

"My girlfriend Meredith and her kid Sue. Came up with me to meet the parents and partake in a bit of the Miller family vacation. Mer, this is Simon - remember the house a bit down from here with the green shutters?"

"You know how I loved the green shutters. Pleased to meet you, Simon." She got to her feet and reached for his hand.

"You as well, Meredith." Simon shook her hand and grinned at Marshall. "Good to see you finally brought a lady up here with you, young man."

Marshall turned red and nodded quickly. "Yes, well. What was it you were looking for?"

"Wire strippers. If I remember right, your daddy used to keep a good stash of electrical stuff up here. Figured I'd try to borrow some off you before going all the way down to the store."

"Of course. And half of that stuff is mine, I'll have you know. I earned it from Dad when I did all the technological upgrades that spring. Here, it's all in the back room."

Mary sat back with Susie and returned to the book in front of them, finishing the last page just as Marshall showed Simon out. She shooed the girl out to go pick out their next book.

"We're fine," Marshall said before she could open her mouth.

"Your dad--"

"We're fine," he repeated. "You'd be surprised what my family can accomplish on instinct alone."

"Does he know we're here?"

"He knows a whole lot more than just that we're here. Trust me, Mer. You'll see."

"But--"

"The Lorax!" Susie announced from the hallway, trotting back into the living room and jumping onto the couch. "Will you make voices like Marshall does?"

"I'm not good at voices," Mary said slowly with a helpless look at her partner.

He only grinned at her. "Everybody's good at voices. Give it a shot."

"I'll give _you_ a shot," she muttered. "From my gun."

* * *

"Bobby, he can't. Don't ask him to."

Marshall stopped in the doorway, studying the back of Mary's head as she spoke on the phone, tension clear in the set of her shoulders.

"Can't you just tell that asshole that he's on vacation? Out of town?" Mary's fist hovered inches from smashing into the wall even as her voice got quieter. "You can't leave me alone up here with the kid. Bobby, _please_." She dropped her forehead against the wall during the pause. "Goddammit, Dershowitz. I don't care how antsy he gets. You can't have Marshall."

Marshall sighed quietly and slipped into the room, unsurprised when Mary didn't react even when he took the phone out of her hand. "What's going on?" he asked calmly.

"McLeod's being a dick and won't deal with ABQPD anymore. Says he's going to call the FBI if you don't come back to town and handle this yourself. I'm sorry, man; I held him off as long as I could."

"Not your fault." Marshall squeezed Mary's shoulder as he left the room to continue the conversation. "I'm on my way, but you need to do me a favor."

* * *

Mary jumped as the cabin's phone rang, laid a calming hand on Susie's shoulder, and reached over to answer. "Hello?"

"Oh, Meredith, hi! This is Jennifer Miller, Marshall's mother. How are you? How are you and little Sue liking the cabin?"

"It's really nice up here in the woods. Sue loves the tire swing out back." She reached over and, with her finger, drew a circle around half of a page in the book Susie was holding.

"Good, good. Listen, Marshall called and told us that he had to go back into town for a day or two, so I just wanted to let you know that Seth and I are still on our way. Actually, Seth said he would go into town and see if he couldn't help Marshall deal with his little situation, but I'm in a grocery store right now, about forty minutes away from the cabin. I'll be right up that mountain just as soon as I finish buying some decent snack food! I know how Marshall stocks a kitchen. It's really no wonder that boy doesn't have any meat on his bones. Anyway, is there anything in particular that you or Sue would like for me to bring up to you?"

Mary frowned to herself, wondering how much Marshall's mother knew about the real situation. "Uh, let me see. I would kill for a bag of microwave popcorn. Suze? Marshall's mom is getting snacks. Anything you want?"

"Lucky Charms," the girl said distractedly, then grinned. "I found him! There's Waldo!" She pointed at the distinctive man and bounced a little on the sofa. "Don't help me with the next one. I want to do it myself."

"Good for you," Mary agreed, then returned her attention to the phone. "Lucky Charms cereal, apparently."

"Alright! Well, I'll just grab those and a couple other things, and I'll be there soon. Now, I know that as a single mother, you must be used to spending a lot of time with Sue just the two of you, but I hope you won't mind if I get a little grandmotherly and swoop her away from some fun times without her mother. Marshall tells me you're not really a birdwatching type, but your little girl would probably _love_ to walk down the lake and watch the geese swimming."

"I'm sure she would." Mary relaxed into the couch. "That sounds great. Thank you so much, Mrs. Miller."

"Oh, it's nothing. I don't get to see my grandchildren very often, so you simply have to let me dote a bit. And you call me Jennifer, young lady. Now, I'll see you in forty minutes."

"Th--" Mary stopped speaking as the line went dead. "Ooookay then." She replaced the receiver and turned back to Susie. "Found Waldo yet?"

"He's not on that page." The girl gestured vaguely, and Mary leaned over to join her in the search.

* * *

"I'm looking for a Detective Dershowitz."

Bobby glanced up from the coffee pot and frowned at the man on the other side of the room. He'd never seen him before, but something about him was familiar - and then he flashed a badge. The officer at the desk looked over towards Bobby and gestured the man in his direction.

"Detective Dershowitz. What can I do for you?" Bobby stuck out his hand.

"Seth Mann." His grip was crushing.

"Dad?" Marshall's head appeared out of the room they'd commandeered. "What are you doing here?"

Seth shrugged. "Figured maybe I could lend my expertise to this case as well and see if we can't get you back on vacation sooner rather than later. Want to bring me up to speed?"

Bobby cleared his throat. "You a Marshal, too?"

"Five generations," Marshall said wearily. "I don't even know how many times he's retired by now."

"Some say six, some say zero." Seth passed his badge over to Bobby and nodded in approval as the detective checked it. "Your mom's probably already painting the master bedroom pink."

Marshall glanced at Bobby, then turned back to his dad. "You'd better join us in the conference room, then."

As soon as the door shut behind them, Bobby handed back Seth's badge. "Marshall, are we all on the same page here?"

"The three of us, Mary, Mom, and Stan."

"Bigger circle than I'd've liked, son."

"Smallest circle that could pull it off, Dad."

"Alright then," Bobby interrupted. "How are we going to play the rest of this game out?"

* * *

"So right about the time he's finishing this utterly thorough dressing-down, he asks the man where the chief is - and he says, 'Right here in front of you, being scolded in front of one of his detectives and another local LEO.' I don't know how Dad didn't get kicked out of the station right then and there, but he did have a point."

"Oh, Marshall, your dad never could hold his tongue. I'll have to give him hell for that one, though. He usually finds out who someone is before telling them off."

"The one time he doesn't...."

She chuckled over the line, then spoke indistinctly to someone on her end. "Honey, Mer says hi."

"Put her on."

"Marshall--"

"We're clean, Mom. Put her on."

"Well, if you're sure. I love you."

"Love you too, Mom." He waited as the phone got passed off, smiling as he heard the squeaky porch door close. "Alone?"

"Yeah. God, Marshall, I don't know if your mom's insane or completely awesome."

He had to laugh at that. "Yeah, me neither, sometimes. I bet she loves Susie something fierce, though."

"Like a momma bear. It's almost scary. You'd think she approves of routine kidnapping."

"Get her to tell you stories about my dad when he was younger. You wouldn't believe the things they got up to together."

"Well, I could hardly believe the things _you_ got up to when you were younger--"

"She didn't."

"She most certainly did." Mary's grin was almost audible until she switched tracks. "So. How goes the, ah, investigation?"

"I don't think Bobby likes my dad very much. He threatened to arrest him, actually. We haven't exactly gotten any sort of investigating done. Not that we really need to investigate, but we do need a plan."

"Arrest him? Dershowitz!"

"Yeah, ask Mom why. She'll have fun telling you. But we do have a bit of a problem. Bill says he won't testify - won't leave town for trial prep at all - until Susie's back."

"You think he knows?"

Marshall shifted on the couch, running a hand through his hair. "God, I hope not. I don't think so. Mer, he's genuinely worried about his daughter. I think ... we didn't really take that into account when we hatched this crazy plan."

"We didn't have a choice." Her voice was hard, and he sighed.

"I don't know. But it doesn't matter now. We have to decide how to play this."

"He's supposed to leave day after tomorrow. Call his bluff."

"I don't think it's a bluff."

She exhaled loudly. "Then tell him we're holding his daughter hostage until he testifies. Christ, Marshall, what do you want me to tell you?"

"I want you to tell me if my next idea is completely insane."

* * *

"What if she says something?"

Stan sighed into the phone. "I don't know what to tell you. This was always a risk; I told you that when you came up with this plan to start with."

Mary shivered and wrapped her arm around herself. "I'm going to lose my job by the time this is over," she whispered.

"We'll get out of this. Marshall wouldn't let me fire you, anyway."

"It's not you I'm afraid of."

"Inspector Shannon, we are a team in this office." He sighed again. "How am I doing with this?"

"You've been single for too long, Stan. Leave the consoling to people like Marshall. That's not why I called, anyway."

"Sure. Troubleshooting. Hey, I have this crazy idea. Have you asked Susie what she's going to tell her dad?"

She laughed. "No, God, I didn't think of that! She's talking to Marshall's mom a lot more than she was to me or him. Now that's she's talking about ... what happened ... what he did to her ... She doesn't want to go back, Stan. Jennifer said she's convinced her it'll be okay if she's never alone with him. I don't think she's going to talk, Stan, but I'm not going to tell her not to."

"So we tell Bill that neither of them are allowed to be alone because we haven't caught all of the kidnappers yet. Once they've moved on to a new life, Bobby D can disappear the entire case. If it ever comes back, she was in protective custody, not kidnapped."

"Once they've moved on to a new life? Together?" Mary's voice was sharp, and she could almost hear the flinch on the other end of the line.

"That's not what I mean," Stan answered quietly but not without force. "Marshal Elliot has it covered on their end. The second they're in custody on that side of the trial, it's taken care of. Look, Mary, all the pieces are in place, and we can't make the next move until you bring her back."

* * *

"Susie! Oh, baby, are you okay?" Her father rushed towards her, but the girl spun into the legs of the woman behind her. "And who are you?"

Jennifer looked meaningfully at the open door, hallway busy with nurses outside. Bill pulled it shut behind him and leaned against the wall. "I was closer to the kidnappers than Mary and Marshall were," she answered, "so I was the one who picked her up right from under their noses. Nobody suspects the grandmotherly type, Mr McLeod. However, because I was the one who rescued her from her ordeal, she seems to have attached herself to me. I'll be staying temporarily to help her readjust. It will be best for her to have a friendly face nearby, especially while you're ... indisposed."

"What happened to her?" Bill asked, reaching once more for an unwilling Susie.

Jennifer frowned. "We can't be entirely certain at this point. In fact, that's part of what I'll be speaking with her about during your trial. I recommend you don't push her to speak if she doesn't want to - and it seems she doesn't yet." She scooped the girl into her arms. "Now, the doctor left some papers for you to sign at the front desk. Mary has a car outside. I assume Marshall told you the plan?"

"Straight to Nevada for the trial, then on to ... wherever it is I'm going."

Her frown deepened. "A simple 'yes' might have been more appropriate."

* * *

"Hey, you." Marshall dropped onto the couch beside Mary, who grabbed the remote and turned off the tv. "Elliot and Adams are playing poker with Bill, and Mom's giving Susie a bath."

Mary laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder. "I can't believe your mother is allowed to stay in the safe house with us."

"Yeah, well, Jennifer Mann might have been a stay-at-home mother, but Jennifer Miller has a U.S. Marshal badge." Marshall pressed his head against Mary's. "How are you?"

"It's almost over. I'm fine. And you're kidding about the badge, right?"

"Yeah. Stan talked to Elliott. Mom officially isn't here; nobody could stand up to a distraught Susie crying for her Gramma Jen." He pulled back and cocked a finger under her chin, turning her head to study her. "How are you, really?"

"Jesus, Marshall, I'm fine. Now that we've actually met Elliott."

He nodded and let go of her face. "You didn't think he'd follow through."

"I don't trust people. You know that."

"Mmhmm." He slid his arm across the back of the couch and tugged on her shoulder until she leaned against him again. "You ready to talk about it yet?"

"Nothing to talk about." She picked at the knee of her jeans for a moment before exhaling and relaxing further into him. "My friend. Just after my dad left. I mean, for years before then. But after Dad left, her father used it as justification. You know, 'at least I'm still here, I'm a great father for not running out on you like Mr. Shannon did to his kids, you owe this to me.' All bullshit, you know? And Samantha knew that. But he was her dad."

Marshall nodded, but he didn't move otherwise, not even to rub her shoulder like he wanted to. "Where is she now?"

"Dead. She killed him and then herself. Couldn't take him, didn't know how to live without him." She looked up at him without sitting up. "I'm okay, Marshall. I actually am. We got Susie, and that counts for something."

* * *

"Don't ever, _ever_ ask me to sign off on something like that again," Stan told them, slumped forward onto his desk with his head in his arms. "I'd rather have the two of you keeping secrets from me than me keeping secrets from _my_ bosses."

"I still can't believe you signed off on that. And I really can't believe you lied to Pearson about it."

"Yes, well." Stan sat up again and stared at them both. "If we're done with the mutual hand-slapping?"

"We'll never mention it again," Marshall promised, kicking Mary's leg as she opened her mouth.

"We'd all be screwed if you did. Now, I know you want to hear the updates on the McLeod family."

Mary leaned forward attentively but didn't speak.

"Susie's been put into foster care - a WITSEC family who was already licensed took her in, so there's much less of a worry of what she might say. Bill has been relocated to a different city with supervised visitation set up." Stan smiled tiredly at them. "We're never doing this again, but damn, we made it work."

"High fives around?" Marshall asked.

Stan raised a hand. "High fives around."

**Author's Note:**

> Child abuse & molestation, kidnapping, discussion of character death via suicide.


End file.
